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“I’m saying you’re intelligent, brave, daring, and determined as hell. You fight, and if you fall, you pick yourself up and never stop protecting the people you love. We work well together and balance each other. I haven’t read your résumé or met your parents, and I didn’t know your full name before I kissed you. And none of those things matter.”
“Why not?” She was missing something, but what?
“Because you and I being together this week healed each of us more than either of us ever could have expected. We’re a strong match, and you know it, too. You’re just too afraid to admit it out loud.”
Caught utterly off guard, she took a shallow breath and attempted to slow her thoughts. How could he already know what she barely had started to grasp? However unexpectedly, she was healing and still feared exposing the shattered part of her heart she’d locked away after Kyle died. “Am I so transparent?”
“Not at all. You can bury your pain deep, but you can’t hide it from me. I’m a healer, and I understand how grief crushes a person. Opening your heart after a loss is terrifying.”
“I’m not afraid. I’m so grateful you joined me.” She sensed herself thawing around the edges, enough to lower her defenses slightly. “I can’t imagine you not being here now, but for all I know, you could be involved with someone else.” The second she mentioned it, she wished she hadn’t.
“Obviously, I’m not.” Keeping his gaze steady, he opened then closed his mouth before rubbing the back of his neck. “Why would you suggest such a thing?”
“I’ll sound like an idiot if I ask this.” Noticing the wounded surprise in his voice, she pulled at her sweater’s collar.
“Can’t be worse than dying. Try me.” He sat upright, hands on his knees.
She took a deep breath, hoping not to humiliate herself. “A woman, Elena something-owitz, calls you every day.” Despite the woman’s full name burning itself in her memory the second she spotted it, she refrained from saying it to avoid appearing like an obsessive stalker.
“Dr. Elena Rabinowitz is my psychiatrist, an incredible doctor. After I called her in distress from Vancouver, she insisted on daily check-ins. Her parents were Holocaust survivors, and now she treats veterans with combat PTSD.”
“Your doctor is the stunning redhead?” She didn’t believe it.
Perplexed, Mark’s forehead wrinkled, but a second later, he burst out laughing. “No, the redhead is my doctor’s admin, Kelly, who sets up our video calls. Elena’s seventy and too arthritic to type.”
Embarrassment flushed her cheeks with burning heat, too fast for her to hide them. Mortified but unable to retract her admission, she wanted to crawl under the table. “I’m sorry. I had no right to act jealous.”
The corners of his lips curled upward. “Don’t be. I’m flattered you cared. Don’t worry about labels. Our time together means whatever we decide. Waking up next to you, I’m happy and drawn to you. What more could I want?”
Butterflies clustered in Tess’s stomach and fluttered in all directions like pre-performance jitters, but a thousand times worse. Still entranced, she rested her fingertips on his chest and returned his gaze. With one finger, she traced his cheek along the edge of his jaw, running it down his neck to the smooth arc of muscle beneath his collarbone. With her heart quaking, she tilted his chin and invited his gaze. “I-I want you and need you. I just do.”
“And that’s all you need to know.” Mark wrapped her into his arms and squeezed her tight.
Damn it, he was right. For one year, she’d avoided feeling anything and obliterated her emotions by whatever means necessary. Stymied by grief since Kyle’s death, she’d concluded she’d never find love again and kept her heart under lock and key, like a destroyed fortress. A steadfast, loyal soldier, she remained behind and alone to guard the sacred rubble and prove her allegiance to a slain king. Rebuilding her life required more courage than mourning its wreckage, and the magnetic attraction she shared with Mark propelled her forward. She relaxed onto his chest but couldn’t ignore the impending danger. “We don’t have much time.”
“I know.” Mark sighed and gave her hip a firm squeeze. “Any chance you’d…?”
“No, not now.” Studying his expression, she smiled demurely.
“Oh.” Lips downturned, he ran a hand through his hair, leaving the top tousled.
Still smiling, Tess shook her head. “You’re irresistible and I want you, madly. But I want our next time together to be when we’re not traumatized or about to die, like tonight. No crises. No emergency phone calls. I want hours, days, to enjoy you, without interruption.” Delighted to see him beaming, she caressed his chest. “Quite possibly longer.”
“Did you just express some feelings, Ms. Bennett? Because those sounded a lot like feelings. Actual emotions.”
“You caught me. I want us to go out and have a proper, romantic date.” Blushing, she felt exposed but decided it was okay. Love required risk, but without love, little else mattered.
“I can do that. Let’s survive tonight and plan a real date. Although not too proper, I hope.” Mark grinned with a wink.
“That I can promise.” Basking in his sparkling blue-eyed gaze, she returned the grin. Glowing, she cherished the moment, glad she’d risked opening her heart despite how scary it felt.
Her mobile phone buzzed. Declan. Jolted back to the present, she tightened her jaw and refocused her energy. She feared something would go wrong tonight. Deadly wrong.
Chapter Twenty
Live by the Sword
Tess answered Declan’s call right away. “Hi, we’re at the hotel. Yes, we’re almost ready to go.” She nodded at Mark and read out the hotel’s address in Westminster. “So, where’s the showdown tonight?” Tess balanced the phone on her shoulder and grabbed a notepad and pen from the suite’s desk.
